


In Truth All Honor Lies

by Aquaholic



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquaholic/pseuds/Aquaholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commodore James Norrington and Captain Jack Sparrow have a past connection that attracts the unwanted attention of Lord Cutler Beckett. Norrington mysteriously disappears from Port Royal and meets a former officer of his. A search and rescue mission is conducted to rescue the commodore and a reckoning occurs between Norrington and Beckett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed work that I wrote a few years back as Wickedwench. It was meant to be a prologue to Dead Man's Chest. The only warnings required are for mild cursing. Enjoy! :)

Captain Andrew Gillette felt the burdens of command slide away as he strolled into the officer’s tavern. The candles in the hurricane lamps gave the tavern a warm glow. The sweet smell of tobacco permeated the air. The tinkling of glasses and the low murmuring conversations eased the soul like the sounds of the sea. 

He smiled broadly when he saw Catherine behind the bar, drying glasses. Her auburn hair warmed the features of her face and her eyes twinkled when they caught the gaze of the captain. 

Gillette swung over the bar stool and placed his tricorn hat on the bar, “Catherine,” he greeted. 

“Andrew,” she smiled back as she filled a mug with Andrew’s favorite drink and slid it towards him. “I wasn’t expectin’ ye to be back so early, especially after your lively reception last night.” 

Andrew’s eyes twinkled. “Since when is fifteen hundred hours,  _early_?” he joked, as he sipped the brew. 

“Well, you and the gents had a time of it last night, to be sure. I was hopin’ that James would’ve stayed later.” 

“You’re not going soft on the dashing commodore, are you? Am  _I_ not enough company for you?” Gillette teased. 

“Well didn’t he say that I would ruin your career?” She stood up straight and mocked a serious gaze as she tried to mimic Norrington’s voice, “Really, Andrew, if you aspire to advance your status in the Navy you  _must_ stop socializing with such women of questionable repute.” 

Andrew almost spewed the brew out onto the bar and Catherine. “What? You  _heard_  all of that?” 

“Ears like a fox, luv,” she replied as she placed a dried glass onto the rack. 

“Well, James has to be a bit careful of who _he_ associates with, which makes me wonder how  _I_ fit into the equation,” quipped Gillette. “Men of ambition always have to be careful.” 

Catherine leaned forward on her elbows. “And you? Do you have any ambitions beyond your career?” 

“Many,” he grinned devilishly.

To tell the truth, Gillette enjoyed Catherine’s presence over that of the foolish posturing and giggling of the high society women. With Catherine there was no pretension. He was free to be himself and not worry about anything leaking outside the tavern. 

“Make way, gents,” interrupted a voice. Gillette turned to see Mullroy and Murtogg making their way through a crowd. The playfulness left his features as he put his hat back on. “I trust this is urgent business gentleman?” 

Both men stood at attention. “Aye it is, sir,” replied Murtogg. “The governor wished to speak to Commodore Norrington, but he wasn’t in his office or his quarters.” 

Gillette frowned. “Did you check to see if he was on the  _Dauntless_?” 

“Aye, sir,” replied Mullroy. “Lieutenant Groves said the last time he saw the commodore was at last night’s reception, sir.”

Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed. It wasn’t like James to just disappear like that. “He hasn’t been called away on official business,” he thought aloud. “Very well, then.” He turned to Catherine, “If you’ll excuse me, madam, I must be off.” He silently mouthed “I’m sorry.” Catherine nodded in response. “With me,” he ordered the men as he hopped off the stool. 

The three men wove through town towards Norrington’s quarters. 

“Oy, look at that!” remarked Murtogg as he pointed towards a broken window. 

“Commodore!” shouted Gillette, as he ran towards the window. Blood glistened on the teeth-like edges of the glass. 

“What the _devil_?” asked Gillette. He peered in to see if he could spot Norrington. “Commodore? Are you in there?” 

Gillette nodded towards the door and both Murtogg and Mullroy broke it down. 

The lieutenant sucked in a sharp breath as he registered what he saw in the Commodore’s quarters. The table was cleft in two and broken ink bottles left gobs of black, blue, and red ink on the normally pristine floor. Maps where shredded and shelves were dislodged. 

“Hornsby and Meadows were on duty last night in the fort, correct?” asked Gillette. 

“Aye sir, they was,” replied Murtogg. 

“Bring them to me at once!” 

“Yes, sir!” replied the marine.

 “Oy, this is strange!” commented Mullroy. 

Gillette looked down. “It looks like the mark of an axe, if my eyes are not deceiving me,” continued Mullroy. 

Gillette bent down to examine the mark. “It’s too deep for a cutlass or dagger, to be sure.” Then his eyes scanned the floor. Long, black scrapes lead out past the door. 

“Look at that,” the captain commented. “Those must be his boot heels.” He looked towards the door. “Mister Mullroy, get a platoon down here on the double. I want this area partitioned off at once!”

 “Yes, sir!” replied Mullroy as he left.

 Gillette took his hat off. “This is damned peculiar, James,” he murmured. “Where the devil have you gone off to?”

 ****

Norrington felt as if someone had dislodged a main mast and slammed it into his skull a million times. His left eye was swollen shut. His hands were bound in shackles.

 “And you call yourself a commodore!” cackled a voice.

 James could not locate the owner of the voice. It hurt to turn his head. He couldn’t tell how long he had been unconscious. Everything had been such a blur. Norrington tried to find his voice and cleared his dry throat. “Hiding at this point seems a bit superfluous, yes?”

 “Such a gentleman even now. Why don’t ye drop the courtly mask seein’ there’s no need for propriety here?” sneered the voice.

 James winced as another bolt of pain seared his head. “It matters to _me_.”

 “Aye, pride of the King’s Navy!” the voice chuckled. “So tell me, somethin’, commodore, do ye ever live outside that stuffy outfit of yorn? Or de ye find it as comfortable as that cell?” 

Something about that voice…something Norrington recognized…but _who_ did it belong to? James decided he would try something. “I do hope this isn’t some ill-conceived attempt to press me into the service of _pirates_ ,” he replied.

A loud laugh thundered. “Full of ye’self, aren’t ye, James? Ye not be good enough the  _swab the deck_  of a pirate vessel. Ye fortunes, I’m afraid, are much worse, dear James.”  

“Oh let me guess,” Norrington replied dryly. “I’ve troubled a few pirates and you’ve come back to give me by just desserts, right?”

 A cultured, British voice cut in. “You fool! You know you’re not supposed to be talking with him!”

 James heard a dull “thud” and a yelp. “Get back you mangy mutt,” continued the British voice, “or it’ll be you in there with him!”

 Norrington’s brow furrowed.

 “Worse,” rasped the first voice. “Much…worse…for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Gillette continued to survey the commodore’s office for any clues that would tell him what happened. He had found strands of brocade and splotches of blood here and there. The sound of crunching gravel broke his train of thought. 

“Here they are, sir,” replied Murtogg as Hornsby and Meadows walked inside.

 Gillette placed his hat back on and rose to look each of the officers squarely in the eyes.

 “You were on watch last night, is that correct?” 

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

 “And you heard or saw nothing out of the ordinary?”

 “No, sir.”

 “Not even broken glass?” he questioned as he nodded towards the window.

 Both marines looked at the window in shock. “No, sir.”

 Gillette struggled to keep his temper down. “How is it that you were stationed on the battlements _adjacent_ to the commodore’s quarters and you heard absolutely  _nothing_?”

 Mullroy snorted.

 “You have something to add, Mister Mullroy?” growled the captain.

 “Aye. Seein’ how Hornsby reeked of a rum bottle it’s small wonder he didn’t _fall off_ , sir.”

 Gillette’s head whipped around and stared angrily at Hornsby. “ _Again?_ ” He was practically in Hornsby’s face. “After Commodore Norrington gave you strict warning…after your pay was docked… you had the temerity to _do it again_?”

Hornsby looked down.

 “And what of you, Mister Meadows? How is it that you missed what happened last night?”

 “I cannot say, sir,” Meadows replied softly.

 “ _Excuse_ me? You _damned_ well better say, mister!” retorted Gillette.

 “I have been ordered by a _higher_ authority to maintain silence on this matter,” replied Meadows, coolly.

 Gillette stepped back. “Is that so?” he asked, rocking on his heels. “Then perhaps you will speak to Governor Swann, if you will not do so with me. Take him away!” ordered Gillette.

Two marines escorted the soldiers to Governor Swann’s quarters.

 “Thank you, Mister Mullroy,” replied Andrew once the soldiers left. “If you come across any other helpful information, please inform me at once!”

 “Yes, sir!” Mullroy replied as Gillette went after the soldiers.

 “I don’t get it,” commented Murtogg.

 “What?” asked Mullroy.

 “Why anyone would want to do this to the commodore?” asked Murtogg.  “Sure he’s a strict and hard man, but that’s ‘is job, isn’t it?”

 “Aye it is. But you’ve heard the talk, haven’t you?” asked Mullroy.

 “About Miss Swann turning him down or about that bit with Mister Sparrow?” inquired Murtogg.

 “About letting that pirate go. Didn’t settle too well with many people, or so I’ve heard” commented Mullroy.

 “Well he did help the commodore find Mr. Turner.”

 Mullroy nodded. “But he’s a pirate, mate. A rumor ‘as it that he didn’t even tell Commodore Norrington that they would run the risk of fighting the undead.”

 “Not much thanks in that,” replied Murtogg. 

*   *    *

 James Norrington knew he was recovering when the foul, acrid stench of his cell pained him more than his physical injuries. His left eye itched horribly and he tried to rub it with his hands. He could see dimly out of it. And that was when a tall shadow detached itself and walked up to the bars of his cell.

 “You are a man of rash actions, James Norrington,” commented a clipped, cultured, British voice.

 “Apparently I am in good company,” Norrington replied sardonically as he tried to recognize the man that stood on the other side of his cell. “One generally discusses matters like _civilized_ gentleman before treating them like a brigand.”

 The figure smiled broadly. “Guilty until proven innocent.”

 “If that’s the case then you should’ve felt the caress of a noose a long time ago,” replied the commodore.

 “Then you _do_ remember me, eh?” the man replied.

 “ _Indeed_ ,” Norrington said with some disgust. “How is it that you’ve fallen in with such riff-raff, Knowles? You had promising career in the Navy.”

 Thomas Arlington Knowles stood tall and sharp in his blue uniform. His raven black hair was pulled back in a queue. His leonine features were accented by clear, blue eyes, a Roman nose, and thin lips. He chuckled at Norrington’s response.

 “Because, dear James, I realized there was more to life than chasing pirates and being a _pawn_ of His Majesty’s Service.”

 “You’re a  _disgrace_!” retorted Norrington.

 “Come now, James. You’re in no position to be sitting in judgment over me, now, are you?” inquired Knowles.

 Norrington’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

 “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you? Why we would go to such great lengths of taking you? It’s a shame that report of yours will never make it to the Admiralty, really.”

 Norrington wanted to bolt up after Knowles and throttle him. Shock and anger played out on his face. His fingers dug into the dirt.

 Knowles smiled broadly. “Yes, we had a good time of it reading that sad report. A sacked city, a commandeered ship, and loss of a crew. It’s a shame you haven’t learned when to keep certain information out of those reports.”

 “Unlike  _some_ ,” replied James, evenly, “I have nothing to hide. I accept the consequences of my decisions without bringing disgrace onto others or myself.”

 Knowles clapped. “Bravo, James! Good form!”

 Norrington gritted his teeth. “You can’t hide me forever, Knowles,” he replied. “I assure you – you will be found and punished accordingly.”

 Knowles sneered coldly. “It’s a big sea, James. There’s no telling where you may end up.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t suppose that you are going to enlighten me as to why I was abducted so rudely?” inquired Norrington as he rubbed his wrists after the guard removed his shackles.

“The Royal Navy is not the only power in the Eastern Caribbean,” stated Knowles as he and the commodore walked from amidships to the forecastle deck. Knowles continued. “There are forces you know nothing about and powers you should never offend.”

A strong breeze blew downwards from the hatch. Norrington inhaled the salty air deeply as his eyes adjusted to the sun. “I have observed some horrific powers that man was not meant to confront,” he replied as he climbed up to the deck. “However, of the latter, I assume you are referring to Lord Cutler Beckett?”

“I am,” replied Knowles.

Norrington frowned. Lord Cutler Beckett was not at all satisfied with administering the East India Trading Company; he desired to control all of the Caribbean, or at least he had made those intentions known the last time the commodore saw him.

The commodore gripped the rail on the forecastle deck and looked out at the barren horizon. The wind played with Norrington’s chestnut hair.  _So it has come down to this, has it_?  _I expected a court martial at the very least, but this?_  “May I ask why Lord Beckett had to employ _mercenaries_ to accost me when a simple warrant would’ve sufficed?”

Knowles chuckled. “Come now, James. You have too many friends at Port Royal who would rush to your aid or _lose_ said warrant."

James spun around and glared at Knowles. For the first time the mercenary captain felt fear and respected the power that gathered around the commodore. “My friends are not dishonorable and neither am I.” His words were clipped and cold, “Had you delivered a warrant amicably I would’ve set straight for Lord Beckett. Do  _not_ confuse my honor with what you have whittled it down to.”

Norrington turned away and looked back out at the sea. “It pains me to admit this but I am most concerned with the state of the East India Trading Company if _this_ is how it treats officers of the Royal Navy.”

“You can express your concerns to Lord Beckett when you see him,” replied Knowles coldly.

Norrington looked back at Knowles and his gaze softened. “Why? Thomas? Why did you leave the Navy for _this_?”

“I  _already_ told you!” he replied in disgust. “Honor, loyalty, integrity – fah! They’re just words on a page.  _Power_ is what makes the man, James! It is  _power_ that granted you your command and it is  _power_  that can take it away!”

Norrington turned away and closed his eyes. He, too, had once been tempted by that seductress in his early years as a lieutenant. And even today, she returned to taunt him with visions of greatness, but he had observed too many men fall to her wiles. The cost of such temptation was too great. “And it is power that blinds you to what truly matters,” he replied gently.

“We shall see,” retorted Knowles. “Dinner is at two bells, commodore,” he finished as he left.

**[** Port Royal **: in Governor Swann’s office]**    


“What do you mean you have orders from a higher power?” questioned Weatherby Swan. “Where is Commodore Norrington?” 

Meadows smiled. “I told you I cannot say. You’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

Gillette got into the marine’s face. The captain’s brown eyes were livid with rage. “Boy, you are in the center of a hornet’s nest and we have far _worse_ things to sting you with. Now tell us where the commodore is or suffer the consequences.”

“There are only two powers greater than my own, Mr. Meadows,” added the governor, calmly, “the House of Lords and the King. Since the King has his hands full with the Dutch back home, I can only assume you are referring to Lord Cutler Beckett.”

Meadows would not speak.

Gillette looked coldly at Meadows. “Since you are being so uncooperative perhaps you would like someone to assist you in finding your tongue?”

Meadows blanched.

Gillette nodded. “Very well. I am sure that you will find Mister Corwin’s methods to be quite effective,” he finished as he nodded to Murtogg and Mullroy.

The marines grabbed Meadows, but he would not move. He had heard too many horror stories and actually saw the gruesome results of one unfortunate soul who met with the torturer. “It is Lord Cutler Beckett, sir.”

“Ah! So you’ve found your tongue, have you?” commented Gillette with a slight smile. “And _what_ exactly is his business with Commodore Norrington?”

“I d-do not know, sir,” stuttered Meadows. “I was only told to keep watch when my superiors came to apprehend Commodore Norrington. I have told you enough and will most likely be dead before day’s end.”

Gillette and Swan looked at each other. The captain looked at Murtogg and Mullroy. “Take him to the jail house. I want him guarded under high security, gentleman, in case his friends decide to pay him a visit.” The marines nodded and took Meadows out of the office.

“This does not bode well,” replied Weatherby. “I knew Lord Beckett thirsted for power, but  _really_. And we still do not know where Norrington is.”

“I checked the commodore’s logs, sir,” replied Gillette. “The  _Intrepid_  was scheduled to arrive at Port Royal in two days. It is possible that they lightened her load and made it here in one day. Murtogg and Mullroy found a trail that led from the commodore’s quarters to the harbor. It is possible that they hid the _Intrepid_  behind the cliff and sent out the long boat. I am conducting a search on all ships that were in dock last night just to ensure that he is not on board one of them.”

The governor nodded. “You are fulfilling your role with distinction, captain,” he replied. “I see Commodore Norrington made a timely choice in promoting you. If there is anything that I can do to assist you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“There is one request I would like to make, sir. I would like to make some modifications to the  _Dauntless_.”

“What  _kind_  of modifications are you talking about, captain?” inquired the governor.

Gillette smiled. “The sort that will make her fly like the wind itself, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

[On board the  _Intrepid_ ]

  
_Once meek, and in a perilous path,_  
_The just man kept his course along_  
 _The vale of death._  
 _Roses are planted where thorns grow._  
 _And on the barren heath_  
 _Sing the honey bees._

_Till the villain left the paths of ease,_  
_To walk in perilous paths, and drive_  
 _The just man into barren climes._

_Now the sneaking serpent walks_  
_In mild humility._  
 _And the just man rages in the wilds_  
 _Where lions roam._

James Norrington thought of the verse from Blake’s  _Marriage of Heaven and Hell_  as he stretched out on the cot provided for him by Knowles. Apparently the captain was reconsidering his ill treatment of his guest and decided to move him above decks into one of the smaller quarters. The commodore dreaded to think of what waited him at the hands of Lord Beckett. At best he would be disrated*, at worst…at worst he would be discharged and sent back to England in disgrace. It would be all too easy to assign blame to Captain Jack Sparrow for all of this misfortune. However, Norrington knew the irascible pirate, while not innocent, was not to blame for the commodore’s actions. And this is where Norrington experienced the harshest judgment of all: he underrated Sparrow’s ability not once, not twice, but  _three_  times. He winced inwardly. Incompetence was a trait that he had no tolerance for in his own men. And here he was, the commander of a squadron in the Eastern Caribbean, and he had been incompetent three times.

 Norrington felt a cold chill run through him. For the first time, he felt completely and utterly alone.

   
[Port Royal Harbor: onboard the  _Dauntless_ ]

“Are you sure this is prudent?” asked Lieutenant Groves, nervously. “You know how protective he is of this ship.”

Gillette nodded as seamen and marines removed the swivel guns and took those below decks. The stern lanterns and head decoration were taken back to the harbor. The ship was bustling with the sounds of sawing wood, loud thuds, and shouts from bow to aft. Below decks, some of the cannons were being removed and sent back to the harbor. “We must make all haste to catch up with the  _Intrepid_. I trust the men are well rested? We will need sharp eyes and ears.”

“Aye sir, they are.”

“Good. This is the route that we are going to take,” continued Gillette as he pointed it out on the map. “We will make a courtesy call as it were. I don’t anticipate any unpleasantness on their part, but we cannot be too sure.”

“You don’t think they’re taking Commodore Norrington all the way to Fort St. George, do you?” asked Groves.

Gillette shook his head. “I don’t think Lord Beckett is that daft.” The captain pursed his lips and then drew a line from the fort in Madras, India, to an indistinct point on the map. “Most likely he has another ship heavily armed or escorted, which is why we need to be careful on our approach to the _Intrepid_. We leave harbor in an hour.”

[Port Royal: Officer’s Tavern]

“My dear, I am sorry, but I must make this quick,” Gillette said as he pecked Catherine on the cheek.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” inquired the bar keep.

“Am I that transparent?” asked Gillette.

“Like a hound on a blood trail. Wait a second, luv. I have something for you and the gents.” Catherine moved to the back of the tavern and returned with a basket of food bundled in cloth. She set the basket on the bar, narrowly missing Gillette’s hat. “If you and the gents are going hunting, you will need something more substantial that those weevil biscuits you pass off for food.”

Gillette beamed at her in delight and pecked her on the cheek once more. “You are a goddess, my dear lady, and I shall thank you a hundred-fold upon my return.”

“Mmmm. Is that a promise?” asked Catherine.

“I am a man of my word,” Gillette smiled as he put his hat back on.

“I look forward to it. Good luck and Godspeed, Andrew.”

“Thank you.” Gillette took the basket and headed for the  _Dauntless_.

[On the  _Intrepid_ : the following day]

Norrington was awoken by shouting on the deck “Sir! It’s the  _Dauntless_! Approaching quickly astern.”

The commodore bolted upright and headed for the poop deck.

“ _What?_ ” bellowed Knowles, as he took out his spyglass. “That’s  _impossible_! She can’t move that fast!”

The commodore ran past Knowles and spotted a large dark shape that was, no doubt, the  _Dauntless_  quickly closing the distance with the  _Intrepid_. He smiled inwardly and shuddered at what his friend had done to make the man-of-war move so fast.

“Helm, bring us about. Ready the guns,” bellowed Knowles.

“Sir?” asked the quartermaster.

“Just in case they decide to do something unpredictable,” responded Knowles.

“Aye, sir!” replied the quartermaster as he brought the  _Intrepid_  around.

  
[Onboard the  _Dauntless_ ]

“Sir! The _Intrepid_ is coming about!” shouted Groves from the forecastle deck.

“Good. We caught their attention. Let us show these rough necks how real gentlemen of the sea handle things,” replied Gillette. “Heave to and take in sails. Launch the boats!”

Seamen and midshipmen set to work. “Mister Pruitt!” called Gillette. The young midshipman approached the captain. “You remember the signals I gave you?”

“Yes, sir!” replied Pruitt.

“Good. Any funny business and you and the gents know what to do. Lieutenant Groves, you have the ship. What’s left of it, anyway,” replied Gillette as he looked about the scraped down deck.

“He’s going to kill us,” murmured Groves as Gillette, Pruitt, and a number of marines headed for the boats.

 

***Author's note: the correct Naval term at the time for demotion was disrate.**


	5. Chapter 5

 [Onboard the _Intrepid_ ]

“Sir, she’s stopped. Two boats approaching.”

“I trust that you will kindly stand down, captain,” remarked Norrington.

“Stand down on the guns. Marines stand guard.”

Norrington tried to hold back a smile as he recognized Gillette in the first boat.

“What brings you to the _Intrepid_ , captain?” asked Knowles, as the long boat pulled up to the ship.

 "A simple courtesy call, captain,” replied Gillette, lightly, as carefully stood up. “You left our port without saying hello or goodbye, and it seems you brought someone with you.”

“I trust you have a warrant for this ‘courtesy call’?” inquired Knowles.

“Come now, captain!” replied Gillette. “There are no hostilities between us, however, it would make you feel better…” he paused and pulled out an envelope from his great coat.

Norrington smiled. _Nicely played, Andrew_.

“Very well, but only you may board, captain,” replied Knowles.

Gillette tucked the warrant back inside his great coat and climbed the rope ladder.

“Captain. Commodore,” greeted Gillette, once he made it to the deck. He handed the envelope to Knowles.

“Captain Knowles, I’ll be brief. I wish to know your intentions for Commodore Norrington.”

Knowles read the letter, folded it, and placed it in his vest. “He is to be escorted to the _Endeavor_ where he will receive his sentence from Lord Cutler Beckett.”

“A sentence?” Gillette asked with mild shock, looking at James. “Is this a court martial, then?”

“In a manner of speaking,” replied Knowles.

Gillette smiled thinly. “Ah, I see. Well then, _in a manner of speaking_ , you are out of line sir, meaning no disrespect. According to the Articles of War, a court martial is to be presided over by the second in command of the squadron or port. That would be me. In addition to which, five captains and key witnesses are to be present.* Commodore Norrington has no witnesses at this point save myself and the crew of the _Dauntless_. He isn’t going to the  _Endeavor_ without me.”

Norrington raised his eyebrows and looked at Gillette. Gillette for his part winked back at Norrington.

Knowles looked dumbfounded. “My compliments, commodore,” he acknowledged. “Apparently your men are as well versed with the law as they are with seamanship. Very well, then, captain. You will accompany Commodore Norrington on the _Endeavor_. The _Dauntless_ is to follow us. Mister Stewart, you will make arrangements for our new guest. Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Thank you, Captain Knowles,” bowed Gillette. He then turned and signaled to Midshipman Pruitt. The two boats shoved off and headed back to the _Dauntless_.

“I’m pleased to see that additional training did not go to waste, Gillette,” commented Norrington. “I trust you found the books in my office to be most helpful?”

Gillette smiled broadly. “Indeed, sir. I am relieved to see you whole, if not bruised a bit.”

“A bit of unpleasantness but nothing to worry about,” Norrington responded. “Though, my curiosity is piqued.”

“Sir?” asked Gillette.

“What misfortune did my ship undergo to move so quickly?” The commodore’s eyes seemed to sparkle, knowing his comrade’s bent for mischief. "Not that I am ungrateful for your efforts."

The captain winced. “Uh…well, it’s a long story, sir.”

“We appear to have plenty of time,” replied Norrington, as they headed towards the quarter deck.

“To tell you the truth, sir, it was allGroves’ idea.”

“ _Gillette_ ,” replied Norrington with disbelief.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information that Gillette cites about the Articles of War was taken from the following source:  
> "The Wooden World: An Anatomy of the Georgian Navy" by N.A.M. Rodger, pg. 222.


	6. Chapter 6

[Aboard the  _Dauntless_ ]

“Well?” demanded Groves as Pruitt climbed onto the deck and straightened out his great coat.

“The commodore appears to be fine, sir. Captain Gillette will accompany him to the  _Endeavor_. Apparently there’s to be some court martial involving Lord Beckett.”

The lieutenant slammed his fist into the railing and he winced as a splinter pierced his hand. He tried to pull it out and then was lanced again on his arm for his efforts.

“We are to follow the  _Intrepid_ to the  _Endeavor,_ ” added the midshipman.

Groves’ eyes widened. “Do you have any ide…if Norrington…get the men to smooth the deck and railing at  _once_!” he bellowed, yanking the thick splinters out of his hand and arm. “And have them place the swivel guns back on the railings!”

“Yes, sir. Sir, if I may say so, I don’t think the commodore will mind one bit considering the time we made.”

“Clearly you have never endured one of Norrington’s inspections.”

“No sir. I can’t say that I have,” replied Pruitt.

“Well don’t just stand there, man! Get to work!” barked Groves.

Pruitt turned to leave. “And Pruitt…post marines on the aft deck as well. I don’t want someone from the  _Intrepid_  getting some half-cocked idea about sneaking on board and meddling with the rudder chain!”

 [On the  _Intrepid_ ]

“Well I trust that everything will be in order when I return,” responded Norrington.

Gillette’s cravat was beginning to feel like a noose. “Of course, sir,” he replied. The two officers stepped into a roomy cabin that had been allotted to Norrington.

“Excellent!” Norrington’s eyes looked sardonically at Gillette as the captain walked past him.

“Sir, what the devil is going on? Lord Beckett can’t be serious!”

All humor left Norrington’s face as he and the captain sat down. “I’m afraid he’s quite serious, Gillette.”

“But if he wanted Sparrow so badly then why in blazes didn’t he keep the pirate?” raged Gillette.

Norrington sighed. “Gillette, I am most grateful for your loyalty and fervor, but really, you must gain control of your temper. Lord Beckett will not be as forgiving as I am.”

The captain sat back. “I’m sorry, sir…but you are as honorable and upstanding as they get in the Navy…and to see you…” Gillette stopped as he caught his ire flaring again. “I will do my best not to embarrass you, sir.”

The commodore smiled wanly. “It is not my career that I am worried about. Angry words can provide the wrong person with ammunition, and I can assure you that Lord Beckett would not hesitate to use it to your undoing.”

Gillette nodded. “Do you think this has mostly to do with Sparrow?”

“Most likely,” Norrington said as he sat back. “Though he appears to be acting quite rashly as of late…which is most uncharacteristic of him."

“Well as annoying as Sparrow is it’s easy to see how he would have many enemies. Say, he never worked as a privateer for the East India Trading Company, did he?”

The comment startled Norrington.

[ _begin flashback_ ]

An image came to mind when he was a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant. His captain had made a stop at Fort St. George. Norrington accidentally witnessed something while about his captain’s business. He saw a man being tortured with a hot iron.

One hole was burned into the man’s chest…a man who looked like a younger version of Jack Sparrow.

“Tell us where it is or be branded a pirate!” demanded a course voice.  
“Go to hell!” screamed the younger man.

A second hot iron was pressed into the young man’s chest.

A hand gripped young Norrington’s shoulders like a vise. He turned around and it was Lord Beckett.

[ _end flashback_ ]

“Sir?”

Norrington blinked. Was that why he spared the pirate? He had thought that unpleasant business had been banished to the darkest depths of his mind. Norrington felt Gillette’s hand on his shoulder.

“I-I’m fine,” Norrington replied shakily. “I just…remembered something.”

“Care to talk about it?”


	7. Chapter 7

[On the  _Endeavor_ ]

Mare Atlanticum on the map bore several tiny ships that were pinpricked to it like fine jewels. Several lined the passage between Bristol and Jamestown, Virginia. Presently, the sun’s light graced the Caribbean portion of the map where a hand currently plucked a ship away from Port Royal, dropped it and crushed the ship under the black heel of a well-polished shoe.

The salty scented wind filled the office in the ship’s cabin and played with the parchments that were struggling to free themselves of the heavy brass octant that lay on top of them. Another, lighter piece of parchment lay underneath heavy scales. The sender’s name was Weatherby Swann.

A short, well-groomed man examined the map. His long, chocolate brown great coat was accented by fine, gold brocade as if a spider had woven the design. Ice blue eyes gazed at the area of Jamaica and deep lines formed a scowl on his otherwise handsome face. In one graceful hand he held a goblet of a cognac colored wine. The other hand moved three ships to the Caribbean. One of those ships was his. He took a sip of the wine and closed his eyes at its warmth. For a moment, Lord Cutler Beckett forgot the people who threatened his grand plan. A great crown was forming in the Caribbean and he was the only man fit to hold such power. The ocean was full of fools and fops and his duty was to weed them out of the net. _Permanently_.

   
[On the  _Intrepid_ ]

A light knock at the door interrupted Norrington’s conversation. “Come in.”

“Commodore. Captain. I just wanted to inform you that we should meet with the  _Endeavor_ by dawn tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Captain Knowles,” replied Norrington.

“If you would like to go back to the  _Dauntless_  you may do so. We’re a bit cramped here and I’m sure the provisions would be more to your liking.”

Norrington turned and looked at the captain.

Knowles closed the door. “You were right, sir. I’m terribly sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. It is apparent that you are a fine man of character. I have no problem with you going to your own ship.”

“Thank you, captain,” replied Norrington. “Your accommodations have improved greatly since I first arrived here, however, I am sure Lord Beckett would deem this act as being somewhat rash and unwise. Therefore, I will stay until tomorrow.”

 Knowles looked relieved and he relaxed. “Very well, sir. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Some hot water and two mugs would suffice,” replied Gillette.

“Very well, sir.” Knowles closed the door and Norrington turned around.

“He certainly changed his tune rather quickly now, didn’t he?”

The commodore smiled. “He fears a court martial as well and would stand more to lose for his ill treatment than I would.”

“Good.”

The door opened again and a servant placed a wooden tray on the table and left. It held two tin mugs and what passed for a kettle of water.

Gillette pulled out a paper package and unraveled it. He poured the aromatic contents into each of the mugs and then filled each of them with hot water. The room was immediately filled with the scent of green apples. “Tea from Catherine,” he explained as he handed Norrington a mug.

“Chamomile. She chose wisely. Please pass my compliments to her,” replied Norrington as he let the warmth from the mug spread from his hands to his arms.

“You can thank her yourself,” replied Gillette as he inhaled the heady scent and relaxed. “Now, about this business with Jack Sparrow.”

“I was second lieutenant under Captain Radcliff. He sent me to take care of a few matters for him at Fort St. George. I heard a most horrendous scream and immediately proceeded to investigate. The labyrinthine halls darkened and I had feared that I lost my way when I heard another scream and a rough voice.”

Norrington sipped his tea and placed his mug on the table. Dark lashes closed over his green eyes. A moment or two passed and he continued, still keeping his eyes closed. “There were… _atrocities_ Andrew…vile acts against the human person that should never be performed no matter what one’s station is in life. The stench…I-I’ve never quite lost the memory of that horrid smell…Deep within the bowels of the fort and,” his voice went from gentle to disgust, “conveniently located next to a dump to dispose of the bodies.” He took another sip of the tea and continued. “It was then that I saw a young man called ‘Sparrow’ by the interrogator. He was bound to a chair and a table of sharp instruments was set before him. I saw a huge arm press a hot iron into his chest. There was a question about…about a _key_ of some sort, but Sparrow would not respond. The brute twisted the iron into Sparrow’s chest and…”

Norrington felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. It did not escape Gillette’s attention that his comrade’s hands were shaking. “Sir, perhaps this isn’t a good idea.”

The commodore smiled, thankful for such companionship. “Your concern is touching. I regret that this crass, unpleasant account must reach your ears. If this current situation deteriorates, which I suspect it will, then you must know the whole of it.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Gillette as he gave Norrington one last squeeze on the shoulder and sat down.

Norrington sipped the tea again and regained his train of thought. “It was then that Lord Beckett grabbed my shoulders and wanted to know my business in that part of the fort. I told him the truth and he ordered me to his office. As I left I heard a threat volleyed at Sparrow: ‘Tell us where the key is or be branded a pirate!’”

“Was he a pirate or were they using that as leverage against him?” asked Gillette.

Norrington’s green eyes looked at him…or perhaps they looked _through_ him, for Gillette felt as if his friend and comrade was searching for a safe place to deposit the information. The commodore lowered his voice, “He was a merchant working in the Caribbean. He specialized in rare items for trade. While most merchants settled for spices and sugar, Sparrow had a knack for finding archaeological items that go beyond human reasoning. I trust you remember his compass?”

“Do I ever! You and I spent that night on the  _Dauntless_  trying to figure out how the bloody thing worked. You even drew a detailed sketch of it.”

The commodore chuckled. “And to think my first impression of it was a piece of junk. I was never a good at appraising antiques.” His face darkened. “It was only a matter of time before his interests caught the attention of certain people. And so Lord Beckett’s men boarded and commandeered Sparrow’s vessel and took him to Fort St. George.”

“And they branded him a pirate because he wouldn’t give that pompous ass the information that he wanted!” fumed Gillette.

James nodded. “I fear it is so. Lord Beckett claimed that Sparrow pirated the items from the English colonies. To satiate my own curiosity, I asked around about the items. My father was able ask Dr. Tomlinson, who was a family friend and professor of archaeology, about the finds. The good doctor said he never heard of the items.”

“Bastard! He set Sparrow up!” cursed Gillette.

“So it would seem.”

The captain paused. “But sir, if you are aware of this information then how is it that Lord Beckett allowed you to live or work outside the fort?”

A great sadness overshadowed the commodore’s face. “On the condition that I would immediately execute Sparrow if he ever graced a ship or port I was working at and that I not reveal this information to anyone.”

Gillette nodded gravely. “As far as I’m concerned sir, I haven’t heard a blessed thing.”


	8. Chapter 8

 [On the  _Endeavor_ ]

“Lord Beckett will see you now,” announced the servant. He held the door open as Norrington and Gillette entered the roomy office within the ship’s great cabin. The door closed with an unnerving clang. Sunlight bathed the office and drew their attention to the huge map. Gillette gave Norrington a knowing look.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?”

The captain turned to see a handsome man who barely cleared his shoulder. The man wore a wig very similar to Norrington’s. His deep, rust colored great coat gave Gillette a rather chilling reminder of dried blood. Cool, blue eyes locked with his.

“Indeed, sir. The finest one I’ve seen yet.”

Was the captain imagining things or did Lord Beckett look up at him with disdain?

“ _Captain_  Gillette, I take it?” he did not offer to shake Gillette’s hand.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good.” Lord Beckett moved to look at Norrington. A smile that looked more like a sarcastic smirk played on Beckett’s lips. “And Commodore Norrington. You’ve advanced quite a way since last we met.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Beckett nodded and moved towards the map. “I understand that you hand the pleasure of reacquainting yourself with Jack Sparrow.”

“I don’t know that such an experience would be called pleasurable, sir,” replied Norrington.

“Indeed,” replied Beckett, as he moved some ships on the map. “The loss of the fastest ship in the Eastern Caribbean is bound to raise some eyebrows with the Admiralty, don’t you think?”

“That’s not entirely true, sir,” interjected Gillette. Norrington fired a warning glance at the captain, but Gillette ignored it.

“Oh?” responded Beckett as he still kept his back to them.

“No, sir. I was first lieutenant of the  _Dauntless_ , sir. Sparrow commandeered the ship during my watch.”

Norrington’s jaw clenched.

“Really?” replied Beckett as he turned around and walked towards Gillette. “Then how is it that you were promoted to  _captain_? I’m surprised that the commodore didn’t disrate you for neglect and incompetence.”

“Captain Gillette was crucial in preventing Hector Barbossa’s men from commandeering the  _Dauntless_ , sir,” Norrington said, evenly. “Considering that was the first time any man confronted the undead I deemed the promotion to be justified.” He then gave Gillette a sharp glare that said  _stop!_

Beckett nodded. “Rightly so. After all, the senior officer is accountable for the actions of his men. Which brings me to  _your_ promotion, commodore. I find it rather…intriguing that not a few hours after your advancement Jack Sparrow escaped from your hands not once, but  _twice_. You lost a crucial ship to the hands of pirates, and several of your men were killed at the hands of the undead.”

Gillette struggled to keep his temper at bay and observed how Norrington handled the attack. The commodore was silent.  _For God’s sakes man, say something!_

“Under most circumstances such actions would cause one to be sent back home in disgrace. However, I understand that men make unwise choices in times of confusion.” Beckett stood straight to his full height. “Commodore Norrington, you are hereby dishonorably discharged from His Majesty’s Royal Navy until further notice on the grounds of incompetence and negligence.”

“With all due respect, sir, you are trying the commodore unfairly. Where are the witnesses to speak on his behalf?” asked Gillette.

 Beckett smiled mirthlessly. “ _Mister_  Norrington will have the opportunity to redeem himself and his command, provided he returns Jack Sparrow to me.”

“And what of the report to the Admiralty?”

“I am withholding it until he returns. Should he fail to secure Sparrow and the compass, well, let’s just say the Admiralty frowns upon officers who desert the Navy to become pirates.”

This was more than the captain could bear. “Of all the cheek!” he said as he rushed towards Beckett. Norrington grabbed Gillette’s wrist and looked sternly into his eyes.  _Now is not the time for rash actions!_

“Would you care to join him,  _captain_?” asked Beckett.

Gillette made no response. The commodore let go of his wrist.

“May I inquire who will be overseeing my post at Port Royal?” asked Norrington, his voice sounding a bit shaky to Gillette.

“Governor Swann has, for reasons known only to him, requested that Captain Gillette accompany you in your hunt for Jack Sparrow. Therefore, Captain Bellamy will resume your duties at Port Royal upon our arrival there. All the necessary arrangements have been made.”

The commodore nodded.

“Off the record, sir,” replied Gillette, “this is the most unbalanced hearing over an officer of the Royal Navy that I have ever had the misfortune to bear witness to. The commodore is an outstanding man, yet no one is able to speak on his behalf.”

Beckett regarded at him coolly. “Why do you think we are making way for Port Royal, captain? Now, if you do not wish to endanger your rank any further I believe it would be wise for you to leave.”

“Thank you, sir,” nodded the commodore.

“Good hunting to the both of you.”

The doors closed behind them with a loud clang.

Norrington’s voice was barely audible. “Gillette…”

“Sir?” The captain winced, expecting the commodore to lash out at him.

Norrington stopped and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, sir.” 

[On the  _Dauntless_ ]

Lieutenant Groves and the men had readied the ship for her return voyage to Port Royal. He was currently sequestered below decks with the steersman working on the rudder chain. Ever since Sparrow had tinkered with it, on that fateful day, it had a nasty tendency to freeze at the most inconvenient times.

A shadow fell across the work space. “Lieutenant Groves, we need you on deck, sir.”

“Not now, Pruitt. Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“Sir, I really think you should come up here.”

“Damn it, man! Can’t a midshipman handle the simplest tasks these days?”

“ _Lieutenant Groves_!” bellowed an all-too familiar stentorian voice.

Groves let loose a flurry of curses as he banged his head on one of the beams. Tools dropped haphazardly. He rushed up the stairs and saw the shiny shoes and long great coat that awaited him.

“At your earliest convenience, of course,” Norrington added dryly.

The lieutenant stood at attention. His wig was frayed and lopsided. There was dirt and oil on his face and cravat. The commodore’s green eyes looked at him with disdain. “Mister Pruitt, you will make careful note that Lieutenant Groves is demonstrating how to fail an inspection.”

“Yes, sir.”

Groves found no sympathy in Gillette’s demeanor for the captain looked at him severely.

Norrington gave the lieutenant what many came to term the “commodorial look” which referred to Norrington’s half-lidded expression of non-amusement. “Lieutenant Groves, your uniform is a disgrace to the Royal Navy. Never have I seen such unseemliness in an officer.

“Yes, sir.”

“Second, I find it quite disappointing that Captain Gillette would set you to this task when it is clearly the work of the steersman.”

Gillette’s mouth fell open.

“Third, we are to make way for Port Royal, immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Norrington, Gillette, Groves, and the steersman walked up to the quarter deck. The commodore grasped the post at the top of the railing and it fell off, bouncing down the deck and plopped unceremoniously into the sea.

Gillette and Groves blanched.

The commodore looked askance at the two officers. He placed his hands on the railing to test its steadiness and the railing came off.

The commodore’s eyes gazed at the masts and then back at the captain and the lieutenant.

“No, sir! The masts are intact, sir!” replied Groves. “ _You didn’t touch those, did you_?” he hissed to Gillette. The captain shook his head.

“Well, I do hope we don’t encounter any unpleasant weather between here and Port Royal,” he replied, smiling slightly. “Otherwise the two of you will be towing us to shore.”


	9. Chapter 9

[Port Royal: Officer’s Tavern]

Catherine was preparing a packing for Gillette and Norrington when she froze and her eyes bulged. The captain turned to see what caught the bar keep’s eye.

James Norrington was walking towards her. The faint light picked up the beard and mustache that was covering the fine features on his face. He was without his wig and had his dark hair pulled in a queue. The great coat of the Royal Navy seemed to glow in a brighter blue and gold.

“I never realized he was such a handsome devil!” she whispered to Gillette.

Norrington stood in front of her. “I wish to thank you for the tea that you provided us with, Miss McCrea. They were perfectly chosen. My compliments.”

Catherine blushed. “You’re most welcome, sir. I’ve prepared another package for you and Andrew. I hope it will serve you well.”

“Thank you,” replied James. “If I came across earlier as being cold towards you, I apologize. I can see that Gillette has yet again found himself fortunate in friendship.”

“No worries, sir. We all have our masks to wear, if you catch my drift.”

Norrington smiled. “Indeed.”

“Well, her ya go, love,” she said, giving the package to Gillette along with a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Catherine,” he replied, returning her light peck.

“And _no_ eyeing the natives, Andrew!”

“What? You’re going to fault a man for  _looking_?”

“Just don’t get any ideas or there’ll be worse things to face than that popinjay Beckett when you return! Now be off with you and return soon!”

Gillette smiled and kissed her once more. The two men headed out of the tavern and walked to Governor Swann’s office.

  
[In Governor Swann’s Office]

“Ah! Commodore! Captain! Good to see you!” Weatherby Swann refused to acknowledge Norrington’s demotion. Both Norrington and Weatherby Swann engaged in a long talk the prior evening which greatly restored Norrington’s spirits and pride.

“Commodore, both Captain Gillette and I agreed to this and…with the renovations of Fort Charles complete we’ve re-named Fort Charles to Fort James.”

“Governor…” Norrington protested.

“Leave it, James!” replied Gillette. “Besides, it’ll stick in the craw of those pompous asses, begging your pardon, sir.”

“I can’t think a man more deserving of it,” added Swann.

“Thank you,” replied Norrington. “Sir, are you sure that you will fare well with both Lord Beckett and Captain Bellamy here?”

Swann waved the comment off. “Those two see me as nothing more than a doddering old fool trying to run an outpost far from home. But that’s exactly what _I_ want them to believe. Dangerous men leave fools alone and are, quite often, humbled a great deal by them.”

Gillette chuckled. “The poor lads will probably wish they were the ones facing the pirates at Tortuga!”

“Take care, gentlemen, and godspeed!” Governor Swann shook their hands.

Norrington and Gillette headed for the docks to board the merchant vessel  _Solaris_.

It was a little past noon and the weather was clear, humid and balmy. Gillette wiped the perspiration off his forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m not sure going into the heart of piracy in our great coats is a wise idea, sir. Even with that rug on your face they’ll recognize the Scourge of Piracy in the Eastern Caribbean through and through. That and we’ll stand to lose a good ten pounds in sweat.”

“We are men of the Navy, Gillette. We have nothing to hide. Besides, I am quite sure Sparrow has some enemies who will be more than willing to help us for the right price. That, and my current reduction in rank should give us something to work with.”

“Are you saying we’re going to become _pirates_ , sir?”

“I said nothing of the sort, Gillette.”

“I don’t know who to be afraid of most, sir the pirates or you.”

“ _Both_ ,” replied Norrington with a slight smile.

They boarded the  _Solaris_. Shortly after the ship began its slow trek through the harbor, passing the tight sand bars and then towards the bay. Gillette took his spyglass out and watched as they passed the  _Dauntless._ The men were busy replacing the head decoration and the stern lanterns.

“Sir! _Look_!” said Gillette, handing his spyglass to Norrington.

On top of the main mast flew the pennant that stated it was the commodore’s ship.

Norrington shook his head and handed the spyglass back to Gillette. “I take it that was _your_ doing?”

The captain smiled. “We may not be here, physically, sir, but I want those jackals coming in to see us at every turn.”

“Gillette…you are incorrigible.”

End


End file.
